


What's Mine Is Yours

by CelesteFitzgerald



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:00:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: After spending the night at George's, Ringo finds himself feeling cold in the morning air. If only there was a spare article of clothing lying around to keep him warm.





	What's Mine Is Yours

Ringo stared at the clock as he lay in George’s bed, keeping the blankets tightly wrapped around himself. _8:37_. He really should get up—he still needed to head back to his own flat to get ready for rehearsal—but it was so _cold_. At least with George laying next to him they could keep each other warm, but George was in the shower at the moment, leaving Ringo with nothing to protect him from the cold. Well, nothing except those blankets that were failing miserably at their one job.

 _8:41_.

Sighing, Ringo accepted his fate and untangled himself from the bedspread. Finally finding a way in, the cold air rushed under the blankets to his arms and legs. Ringo cursed himself for not bringing a jacket with him—it hadn’t been nearly as cold the previous night.

He scanned the room for anything that he could use to keep himself warm, and his eyes landed on a jumper draped over the dresser. _George’s_ jumper.

Ringo bit his lip. He wasn’t sure how George would feel about Ringo using his clothes. But he could hear the water still running in the shower—Ringo could just listen and take the jumper back off before George stepped back into the bedroom, and he would never have to know. His mind made up, Ringo grabbed the jumper and pulled it over his head.

Warmth spread across Ringo’s torso, and he exhaled in relief. This was much better. He wrapped his arms around himself and started walking toward his things to start packing up—until he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror.

What he saw was…unexpected. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have been a surprise—of course the jumper would hang loosely from his body—George _was_ taller than him, after all—but Ringo was surprised, nonetheless. He let his arms fall to his sides and watched as the sleeves slid down along his arms, extending almost to his fingertips. It looked silly. He should probably just take it off.

Ringo heard a _click_ and saw the bathroom door opening—he hadn’t even noticed the water shutting off.

…He was still wearing the jumper.

Ringo stood, frozen, facing the bathroom door as George stepped out and smiled—then George paused and tilted his head. “What’s that?” he asked.

Playing dumb, Ringo turned around to look behind himself. “What’s what?”

“Isn’t that my jumper?”

“Sorry, I was cold. I was just takin’ it off—”

“No, don’t.”

“…What?”

George blushed. “I mean, I’m not upset. It’s just…I can’t believe you’re actually wearing _my_ clothes. It’s cute.”

Ringo looked down at himself, clutching the ends of the sleeves in his fingers. “Cute?”

“I-in a good way!” George reassured him, stepping toward him and running a hand down his arm. When he reached Ringo’s hand, he entwined their fingers and squeezed. “I like seeing a piece of me with you like this.”

Ringo smiled. If George liked it, maybe Ringo could look past the annoyingly large size and focus on how soft and cozy the fabric was—and anyway, the fact that it smelled like George certainly didn’t hurt.

Unfortunately, he caught sight of the clock. “I really have to go home now, or I’m gonna be late to rehearsal,” Ringo said, starting to pull off the jumper.

“Wait,” George said, grabbing both of his hands this time. “Why don’t you keep it?”

Eyes wide, Ringo asked, “Really?”

George shrugged. “Why not? I like it, you like it…it’s just better this way.”

Ringo didn’t have any complaints with that. “Deal,” he said, leaning up and giving George a swift kiss. “And maybe next time you stay at my flat, you can borrow one of _my_ jumpers,” he said, running a thumb across George’s lips.

George laughed, but he didn’t deny Ringo’s request.

After Ringo had finally gathered up his things and started heading home, his mind wandered to the idea of George wearing his jumper. Honestly, it might look a bit odd, being a size too small and everything. Then again, the image of the fabric tightly hugging George’s lean body was not unpleasant—not unpleasant at all.

He couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: “No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”


End file.
